


Out and Cold

by orphan_account



Series: Home- Highschool AU [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, MAN OH BOY, also there is not enough shit in the mettasans tag......... just sayin............, implied character death?, just like. he got hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans gets the news that his father has been sent to the hospital for radiation poisoning and is likely to die. He tries not to freak out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out and Cold

**Author's Note:**

> hey, some background: gaster is a radiobiologist who moved his two sons out to Nowhere, Nevada so he could legally have a lab studying radiation poisoning. they're originally from Big City, USA, so sans isnt much adjusted to tiny mining town life. hes also asthmatic. 
> 
> (All human versions of characters are inspired by toddnet's interpretations!!!!)

Sans stomach dropped. The popcorn he had been eating felt dry as sand in his mouth, and the ziplock bag he held in his hands slipped out as if he were a ghost, phasing through solid objects. He knew this day would come, of course he did, but it was so far off, pushed away into the corners of his mind that it came as a surprise unlike any other. The dull thud of his phone on the concrete lab floor was distant, as were his lab partner’s yelp as he slipped off his chair and smashed into the cement. He felt rigid against the cold floor, like a corpse fallen from a morticians table.

                ///

                A cold towel was being pressed to his forehead, the beads of cool water running from the haphazardly wrung rag. Sans shuddered as his vision started to melt back into normality. The school nurse looked sympathetic as she helped him sit up, the principal watching from the far corner by the door, her face too pale for anything good to be happening.

                “Mr. Gaster,” She said, her voice nothing more than a rasp. “I’m afraid we have some bad news for-“

                “I know.” San shoved his fists in his pocket, “I know. Where is Papyrus?”

                “We haven’t told him, do you-“

                “No, just- just leave us the hell alone.”

                “Sans!” She almost scolded him, but realized now was not the time, “You. You are excused to leave if you can find a ride.”

                Sans stared her square in the eyes, “I’m sorry, Sans.” She ran her hands through her white hair, distressed, “He was a good man.”

                “Was?” he whispered. “Yeah, was.”

                Ms. Toriel opened the door and left for her office. The nurse watched in empathy as Sans got up, shaking, and exited. Straight to the bathroom he went, the most embarrassing and depressing places to have a panic attack, but one of the only not filled with sports equipment and bugs.

                The phone in his pocket buzzed again, but he did not want to see what it had to say. Probably just another frantic text from his father’s coworker, saying she could pick him up if he wanted? But the last thing he needed was to go to a hospital forty-five minutes away and be patted on the back while he cried. Even worse, to watch Papyrus sob while their unconscious dad lay in the room next to them, his body slowly decaying from the inside.

                It going to happen anyways, he tried to tell himself, that’s how radiation works. But the feeling of sitting in the handicapped bathroom stall on the floor, eyes burning and throat gasping for good air was not helping him calm down. Like the idea that everyone dies helps in that kind of situation.

                How many minutes had gone by since he passed out in class was beyond him. Time had always seemed like an unreliable concept. Sometimes hours felt like minutes and seconds felt like years to Sans, especially when he was too busy hating himself to get up and check a clock. He looked at his hands, his vision was still too blurry, making his hands double up and shake uncontrollably. Why was he here? Why did Gaster want to move to some stupid town in the middle of nowhere? Why radiobiology? Why not something docile like… botany or something? He scoffed, and buried his head in between his legs, pulled as far up to his chest as he could manage. At least he was alone in this moment, the only good way to suffer a panic attack. At least he was-

                Alone.

                Footsteps clicked onto the tile of the bathrooms. Sans head flashed up. He realized his breathing was more wheezing than anything and held his breath. The shoes stopped.

                “Is someone in here?” A smooth voice rang.

                Sans grimaced. He quietly set down the toilet seat and sat, putting his feet on the stalls wall so he was invisible to someone looking for shoes. The sharp clack of the heels stepped towards the sinks. Some tap ran out and was switched back on. He hummed as he tapped his elbows onto the porcelain counter. Sans gasped.

                His breathing was largely uneven and whispy. He looked around wildly and shook through his pockets. His left pants pocket, there, an inhaler. The nurse must have slipped his to him before he left. Of course his memory had failed him, it always did. “Oh my God?” The heels clicked fast over to his stall. “Whose in there? Are you alright?”

                Fuck that voice. “It’s me, Mettaton? Open up!”

                “No.” Sans grumbled, putting his legs down. He was still gasping for air.

                “Is that fucking-? Are you alright?” Mettaton knocked harder. “Are you fucking dying? Open the door!”

                “I’m-“ why should he respond. He shook the canister and took a deep breath. “Get the hell out!”

                “Sans? Is that you? Holy shit.” Mettaton was leaning against the door now, “Are you asthmatic?”

                “Yes! Go the fuck away!” Sans coughed, shaking.

                “I can help you? My cousin has asthma.” He offered.

                “I fucking know how to use my inhaler, asshole.” Sans groaned.

                “Why didn’t you go to the nurse?” Mettaton asked, “I can take you there.”

                “Like I’d want to be seen with you in the halls.” Sans rolled his eyes, even if Mettaton couldn’t see, it was obvious that he was, “Either way, I can’t.”

                The boy on the other side of the door stopped, “Why not?”

                “It’s none of your business.”

                “Yes, but why?”

                Sans stood up and leaned over so his head was right next to the door, “Because I fucking said so!” He burst. Mettaton jumped up.

                “Fine! So you want to be miserable in the bathroom by yourself, whatever! I’ll go!” He threw his hands up, “Have fun with your panic attack, or whatever!”

                “Panic attack?” Sans said, looking down, “How did you-?”

                “How did I know? The whole school knows at this point. You fainted in science, Ms. Toriel is sitting in her office depressed as hell, and Papyrus is worried and scared for you. Some kids are saying it has to do with your dad. I heard that someone saw your phone and it said your dad was in the hospital.”

                “Papyrus… Oh, God.” Sans groaned.

                “Sans, it’s alright, I don’t think Papyrus knows anything.” Mettaton said in a weird voice. It sounded so less rehearsed and polished. Like he was an actual human teenager and not a flirtatious robot, for once in his life.

                He turned the lock and opened the door. Mettaton stepped back and opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to when he saw Sans’s disheveled hair and reddened eyes. Before Sans could move, Mettaton had hugged him. The kid was a giant, almost six foot three, while sans was barely five-five, making his face go square into Mettaton’s lower chest. He didn’t resist, but found himself leaning in, quiet and miserable.

                “You are going to be just fine.” Mettaton whispered. Sans shook his head and laughed, backing away.

                “Get away from me, fucker.” He shoved his fists back into his pockets. “I need to go back to class.”

                Instead of coming back with a rude remark, Mettaton just stepped aside and let Sans pass. He shivered as he felt eyes on his back, but did not find the gray school hallways more comforting. At least the first part of the coming hell was done and over with. But the thought of the impending doom made him sick to his stomach.

 

**Author's Note:**

> also..................... ok everyone imagines mettaton as bein small but........ hes like the same size as asgore canonically??? so yea. hes rly big.


End file.
